In A Stranger's Eyes
by Pandora of Ithilien
Summary: There are stories everywhere. A young artist inadvertently captures one in a sketch of a couple we all know... but that's only the beginning. Sometimes, there are ties between people no one knows about, and fate decides what comes next.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: No one is mine except the anonymous artist narrator.

You don't expect to see struggling artists in diners. We're supposed to hang out in coffee shops, museum cafes. But my mom used to work here, at this diner, and I like to come back now and then. There's always a scene to put in my sketchbook. There's always a story waiting to be captured.

Take that couple two tables down. The man with dark, close-cut hair, and the woman with long brown hair. They're both drinking coffee; since it's after eight at night, I'm willing to bet they work long hours. They've got this tough air, but that dissolves at something the man says. Both of them smile at the joke. I couldn't quite catch what it was. Something to do with a fin, I think. My pencil begins to move of its own accord.

Shadow. Curve. Catch the way the light slants over the woman's hair. Try to capture the light in their eyes. There's something about them, the way they're so comfortable together. I'm trying to get the essence of it, whatever it is. The man's phone rings. He answers, and doesn't like what he hears. He tells the woman they have to go, calls her Liv. "Elliot, what did they say?" Liv wants to know. He tells her in an undertone and suddenly her expression is as dark as his. They leave and I look down at the page. I've got the people, just the background is mssing. I can do that at home; I know this diner well.

Later that night, I'm at home in my SoHo loft, finishing up the background on my sketch. Once I'm done, I look at them again. Elliot and Liv. Olivia, maybe. Who are they, and why do they tug at me? And then I can see it, something I preserved by accident. That mysterious thing about them, it's love. And worse, it's hidden. That was the light in their eyes, the bond between them. And neither of them can see it. So how does it come out, with these simple pencil lines, drawn by someone who doesn't know the subjects? Do strangers see us more clearly than we see ourselves? I don't know. I just know that I've got something here, something magical, captured on this piece of paper.

I go back to the diner more often now. I want to see them again, just to see if anything has changed. I never do see them, though. And then one night they come in, just the way they did before. Only this time, that something is there more strongly. It's not just a hidden essence, but an electric current. They hold hands across the table, and my hand moves to draw them again. This time, it's harder to get that essence, as if the stronger it is, the harder it is to duplicate. I know this sketch will be flat compared to reality, and I'm sorry for it. But then I watch them walk out, hands still linked, and I know that it doesn't matter. Because even if I can't draw this properly, to share with the world, I'll remember, and they'll be happy together, never knowing how much they mean in one stranger's eyes.

A/N: OK, I'm not exactly sure what this was. I just wondered what the Elliot/Olivia relationship would look like to someone who didn't know them at all, and this was born. R&R!


	2. A Child's Pain

Disclaimer: Yeah, you all know SVU isn't mine. Eve and any other people you don't know are.

**_Chapter 1 – A Child's Pain:_** Eve Quinn stared down at the second sketch of the Diner Couple, as she thought of them. No, she hadn't done as well this time. Still, there was something important here. She wasn't sure what. It was almost as though she'd formed a connection to the mysterious Liv and Elliot, simply through drawing them.

_Don't be stupid_, Eve told herself. She knew better than that. She'd never even met them. They didn't know she'd seen them or drew them, and would probably take it as spying if they did. _I'm never going to see them again, and I should just forget about it._

* * *

The next morning, she was back at work, an art teacher at P.S. 204. She would have preferred to work as a professional artist, but professional artists usually didn't get paid very well. So she taught art. And she had to admit, she liked working with the students. They weren't all talented, which meant that some of the kids were vocal about hating the class – mostly the older ones – , but many of them liked it. The youngest were particularly enthusiastic. That particular day she had one of her favorite classes, Ms. Carpenter's first grade class.

She'd given the kids what she called a free day. They could use anything they wanted to draw whatever they wanted. Eve walked around the room, looking at the kids' work. "That's a great picture of the Statue of Liberty, Danny," she told one bespectacled boy. "I love your dog, Lisa," she said to a pigtailed girl.

Then she came to a small girl sitting by herself. She was using finger paints, and she looked upset. "Becky, what's wrong? Don't you like your picture?" And then Eve saw what the small girl was drawing. A man, with his hand up the nightgown of a little girl on a bed. The girl had bright red hair... just like Becky's, Eve realized, feeling sick. "Honey, did this really happen?" she asked gently.

"I'm not s'posed to say," Becky whispered, sounding like she was about to cry. Eve bit down on her anger.

"OK, sweetie," she said. She wasn't going to push her. But at the end of class, when Melissa Carpenter came to pick up her kids, Eve pulled her aside. "I'm going to keep Rebecca Bayliss. She drew something in class... I think she's living in an abusive environment, and I'm calling the police. I don't have a class for the next two periods, and I'll cancel them if I have to. I'm telling the office to call the cops."

Melissa looked shocked, but she nodded, and took the other kids. "Miss Quinn? Am I in trouble?" Becky asked, obviously scared.

"Trouble? No, of course not, Becky. You're just going to stay with me for a little while, OK?" Eve assured her. Then she called the office and told them to call the cops. About a half hour later, two detectives came walking through the door. Detectives Munch and Tutuola asked her a few questions, and then asked for the picture. Just then, a woman with Becky's red hair and blue eyes came running in.

"The principal said something's wrong with Becky?" she said, looking horrified.

"Ms. Bayliss, why don't we talk over here?" Detective Tutuola suggested. He pulled the woman aside and spoke to her quietly. Eve watched, jaw clenched, as Becky's mother put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. _Could she really not know what's going on? That's impossible, isn't it?_ But she didn't know, and told herself not to judge without knowing.

Detective Munch was talking quietly to Becky, but then Ms. Bayliss came over and picked up her little girl. "Honey, we're going to go with these nice men so they can talk to us where they work, OK?" Becky nodded.

"Mommy," she whispered, "will I get in trouble for telling?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ms. Bayliss was horrified, or she sounded it, anyway. Eve watched from the sidelines and felt her suspicions rise again. There was something in that woman's eyes. At the very least, she wasn't surprised at what had happened. Upset, maybe, but not surprised. She hoped one of the detectives noticed.

"Thanks for your help, Miss Quinn. Here's my card. Just give me a call if you remember anything that might help us." Detective Tutuola said as they left. Eve nodded. Then she went to her desk and sat down. She looked over at the single photo on her desk. It was of her and her twin brother, Dylan. Dylan was dead now, killed in a prison riot while serving a year for possession of stolen goods. But she remembered something he'd said once, about prison culture. There were two kinds of people the main group of prisoners couldn't stand; tattletales and sex offenders, particularly child molesters. Remembering that painting, she hoped fiercely that whoever had done that to Becky got to experience that hatred firsthand.

* * *

Olivia followed Elliot back into the precinct. It had been a long day, and from the looks on Fin's and Munch's faces, it was about to get worse.

"So, how'd it go with the trial?" Fin said as they sat at their desks.

"The lawyer's gonna get the bastard off," Elliot said. "What's with you two? We get a case?" He got his answer in the form of a finger painting Munch tossed on his desk. Olivia leaned over to look at it and then sat back, closing her eyes for a second.

"How old's the victim?" Elliot said in a strangled voice. His kids had played with finger paints when they were little... except for the subject, this could belong to any of them.

"Six. Her name's Rebecca Bayliss. The mother's single, no recent relationship. The father's dead," Fin said.

"Well, how'd you get the picture? The mother?" Olivia asked. Munch shook his head.

"No. The art teacher. Evelyn Quinn. We already talked to her. Fin gave her his card, in case she comes up with anything else."

"Well, let's get started," Elliot said. "Fill us in on the rest."

A/N: Well, I decided to continue this. I introduced a couple of things that will be important – besides glaringly obvious things. R&R!


	3. Ironic Life

Disclaimer: Eve is mine, but that's about it. If for some reason you want to borrow her, you've got to ask first. Or else I shall hunt you down and punish you.

**_Chapter 2 – Ironic Life:_** Eve went home early that day. The principle, Elaine Matthews, knew she wouldn't be able to deal with the kids after what had happened. So, Eve drove home, trying not to worry about Becky. She drove past the diner and thought about stopping in, but decided against it. She really just wanted to go home.

When she got back to her loft, she went inside and sank onto the couch after she turned on her boom box. Martina McBride's Concrete Angel played from the speakers. She leaned back and shut her eyes. Big mistake. She saw Becky's drawing in her mind again. It wouldn't leave her alone.

* * *

Eve called out the next day. She had barely slept at all, and knew she'd be no good today. So she tried to stay busy. She added some details to a painting she'd been working on, started another. But her mind wasn' t on it. And then something hit her, something she should have remembered yesterday.

She leapt up, running into the small second bedroom that she used as a library/office. She searched the desk drawers until she found the file for Becky's class. The kids had drawn pictures of their parents. Now, Eve knew that Becky's dad was dead; it had happened the previous year, and every teacher who had Becky had been told, in case something happened. But Becky hadn't drawn her mother alone. She'd drawn her holding hands with a man in a brown jacket and jeans with blond hair. Eve remembered that the man in the finger painting had been similarly dressed. She ran back out to the living room, picking up Detective Tutuola's card in a trembling hand. She snatched up her phone and punched in the number.

* * *

Fin's phone was ringing, but he and Munch were at Becky Bayliss' school, talking to the teachers. So Olivia got up and answered for him. "Benson."

"Um... I was trying to reach Detective Tutuola?" a slightly uncertain voice replied.

"He's not here right now. Do you want to leave a message?"

"It's about Rebecca Bayliss."

"I see. Well, I'm also involved in that case. Who is this?"

"Evelyn Quinn. I'm the teacher who called 911. I think I might have something else for you."

Olivia covered the mouthpiece to say to Elliot, "It's the art teacher. Thinks she has something." To Quinn, she said, "What?"

"It's something in another of Becky's drawings. It could just be a coincidence..."

"Maybe, but it could be useful? Could you bring whatever you have down to the precinct?"

"Sure. The 16th, right?"

"That's right."

"OK, I'll be right down." There was a click as the woman hung up. Olivia put the phone down.

"So?" Elliot wanted to know.

"She said something about one of Becky's other drawings. I don't know, maybe she's got something."

"Let's hope so, because we're screwed without a breakthrough." It was true. They had nothing. Becky wasn't talking, and her mother wanted the cops to leave the little girl alone. Olivia found that a little suspicious; you'd think Amanda Bayliss didn't want them to find the perp. But then, she wasn't a mother. Maybe Bayliss was just overprotective. That was what the others thought.

* * *

Eve got down to the 16th precinct so fast she was lucky not to get a ticket. She went inside and got directions to the SVU bullpen, as it was called. When she got there, it was only good self-control that kept her shock off her face. Turned out, her Diner Couple were detectives. _OK, why can't my life not be ironic, just for once?_

Elliot and Olivia looked up at the knock on the door. A slender brunette in jeans and a thick white sweater stood in the doorway, holding a folder. "You're Evelyn Quinn?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah."

Olivia nodded. "I'm Detective Benson, and that's Detective Stabler. Now, what do you have for us?"

Eve took out the picture and put it on Olivia's desk. "I just remembered about this. I don't know if it means anything, but Becky's not good with faces. So I thought the clothing... it might mean that it's the same guy."

"Ms. Bayliss said she hadn't had a relationship anytime recently," Elliot said, frowning. "When was this done?"

"Um... I gave the assignment in January, so last month. I asked Becky who he was, and she said that he was her mommy's 'sleepover friend'. I thought that meant they were lovers, but at the time, it didn't seem important. I only asked because I knew Becky's father had died..." She shrugged. "I like Becky, and I remember what she was like after her dad died, like a little shadow. So I guess I was a little concerned for her sake."

"You don't need to defend anything, Miss Quinn," Elliot told her. "So, they were probably together last month?"

"If she drew this as a recent thing, then yes." Eve shook her head. "If I'd given the free day assignment sooner, maybe she'd have drawn the abuse then, and it would have stopped sooner. I don't know."

"Well, it's not your fault, so don't feel guilty," Olivia told the younger woman. Eve nodded.

"I know. I hope this helps you. Do I need to make any other kind of statement thing?"

"No, you don't," Olivia said. "Thanks, though. This could help us out."

When Quinn had left, Elliot looked at Liv. "You think it'll help, really?"

Olivia shrugged. "I don't know. But if nothing else, we know the mother was lying now."

* * *

Meanwhile, in a Queens apartment, a man sat at his desk listening to a woman fretting. "I just don't know what to do, Evan! I never thought she'd say a word, much less paint it!"

"Well, obviously, you didn't make your point about it needing to be secret," Evan said carelessly. "Just relax. I'll take care of everything. And I'll even get a little revenge on that teacher, the one who can't mind her own business." He hung up the phone and then pulled out his copy of the P.S. 204 yearbook. He flipped to the staff picture and smirked when he saw one young woman. _I always did like brunettes_, he thought smugly.

A/N: So, what did you think? I didn't want there to be too much between Eve and our 'Diner Couple' yet, because it wouldn't make sense. But there's going to be... you can count on it. R&R!


	4. An 'Innocent' Talk

Disclaimer: Eve is mine, but that's about it. If for some reason you want to borrow her, you've got to ask first. Or else I shall hunt you down and punish you.

**_Chapter 3 – An 'Innocent' Talk:_** The next day Eve was back at work. She needed to get back into her rhythm. So, she was the fun, slightly crazy teacher all her kids loved – especially some of the older boys, who had not-so-secret crushes on the art teacher.

Around one, she went for lunch at a nearby cafe. "This seat taken?" said a light male voice. She looked up to see a leonine blond man smiling charmingly at her. She smiled back.

"No, why?"

"Mind if I join you?"

Eve raised a brow. But then, she thought, _he can't be dumb enough to try something here, and I'm not going anywhere with him._ "Sure."

"You teach at P.S. 204, don't you?" he asked.

"Yeah. How'd you know that? And what's your name, anyway?"

"Oh, Jason Mathis. I'm at Hawkins High School. I teach art classes there. And you're Evelyn Quinn. Some of my students talk about you. One of them showed me your picture in their yearbook."

"Really?" She sipped her iced tea. "That's rather flattering. And I think I've heard of you too. Jason E. Mathis, champion for the study of art and music in inner-city schools, right?"

"You make me sound like a vigilante. I'm not, just a man who thinks kids should have a healthy outlet, no matter where they're from."

"I agree. So, what brings you here?"

"Oh, just lunch. I saw you, and I just had to come over. Those kids I get from you are some of my best. You really know what art's all about, don't you?"

"I wanted to be a professional artist, but that's not very practical. I don't know what you mean by what art's about, though. It's about whatever the person making it is thinking, I'd say."

"That's what I mean. It's free expression." He looked at his watch. "I have to go. But... I'd like to talk to you some more. Do you know where Lisa's is?" Lisa's was a small jazz club on Broadway.

"Yes, why?"

"Meet me at 8?"

Eve hesitated. But she knew some of Jason's colleagues, and they had nothing but nice things to say about him. Plus, there was the Mace in her purse, and her black belt. She knew she could deal with trouble. So she nodded. "OK. I'll be there."

Jason gave her a blinding smile. "That's great. I can't wait to see you. Bye, Evelyn."

Once he'd left, Eve took a deep breath. He was certainly very attractive. And he was into art, he taught it, like she did. Still, she wasn't going to walk into this completely without suspicions. She would be careful tonight, and see just what the handsome high school teacher had on his mind.

* * *

Later that night, as Eve headed over to Lisa's, in a Manhattan apartment, Olivia and Elliot finished their Chinese takeout and then sat together on Liv's couch. "El, you know we can't play this game forever. If we tell Cragen now, maybe he'll just switch everyone up. You know, pair us off with Munch and Fin."

"Maybe, or one of us'll get fired. Let's just keep this between us for now."

"Casey knows something's up. She's my friend; she can tell."

"Yeah, well, she's not psychic, so I don't think we need to worry. Come on, Liv, relax. It'll all work out."

"Maybe. I just don't like – " She was cut off by the ringing of her phone. "Hello," she said, picking up. She listened for a moment, a frown crossing her face. Elliot watched in concern.

"What?" he asked when she hung up.

"That was Melinda."

"Melinda? But our case has a living vic." Liv looked down. "Liv, what's going on?"

"You remember that kinship DNA thing you had her do for the case with that little boy, Kendall?"

"Yeah, what about..." He trailed off as he realized. "Oh, Liv, what did you find out?"

"Well, I didn't find my father, if that's what you mean. But I did find out I have a brother. Or had, rather. He's dead."

A/N: Well, you guys might see what I'm doing now, and you might not. R&R!


	5. Date With Danger

Disclaimer: Eve is mine, but that's about it. If for some reason you want to borrow her, you've got to ask first. Or else I shall hunt you down and punish you.

**_Chapter 4 – Date With Danger:_** Eve drove down to Lisa's, a niggling sense of foreboding in the back of her mind. She had begun to wonder if she'd done the right thing, but she'd promised to be there, and she didn't go back on her word. But she was edgy.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jason was already at the club. He'd come early; he was eager to get this started. A smile danced on his lips, the kind of smile you'd expect to see on a lion or a tiger. Dark, predatory, filled with the anticipation of the hunt._ This is going to be fun_.

* * *

Eve got to the club and saw that Jason was already there. He gave her that charismatic smile again as she sat down. "Glad you could make it, Evelyn."

"Oh, please, call me Eve."

"Eve... sure." He sipped his drink. "I would have ordered a drink for you, but I don't know what you like," he said.

"Well, it's good you didn't. I don't drink."

"Really? Why not? Don't like it? One-drink wonder?"

"No, actually, pretty much the opposite." She shrugged. "I just don't like to mess with it. I'll just get a club soda."

"Oh, OK."

They talked for over two hours, about teaching, art they liked, movies, books, everything. It had been so long since Eve had gone on a date with a guy who she could talk to so easily. Still, something bothered her. She didn't know what, and chalked it up to her own phobias when it came to men.

Jason was enjoying himself. _Amanda wasn't nearly so interesting. Who knows, maybe I'll keep this one._ There was no trace of this line of thought on his face, though, and Eve was unaware of it. He kept on talking, lightly manipulating her into a more personal line of conversation.

"So, what's your family like?"

Eve toyed with her glass. "I don't really have any."

"That's crazy. Everyone has family. Maybe you aren't close, but..."

"My brother's dead, and so is my mother. They were my whole family." She didn't want to talk about this, about the call from Sing Sing, or about her mother's sad but not unexpected end. "Can we talk about something else?"

_Back off, idiot..._ "Sure. So, since we seem to have the same taste in movies, and I happen to know that The Reaping is playing now, would you like to go catch the late show? It's Friday, so we can sleep in. Just like kids."

Eve frowned, thinking. And then she sighed. "I'm sorry, Jason. But there are some things going on with me right now... this was really nice, but I think I should go home."

Jason looked disappointed. "Oh, OK. Hey, can I call you sometime?"

Eve smiled and wrote down her number for him before leaving. He watched her go, his hand curling into a fist and crushing the paper. _Little bitch. Telling me no because she's upset about that little brat. She'll pay... after I have some fun with her._

A/N: So, what do you think?


End file.
